


Of Apples And Onions And Love

by Athaia



Category: Planet of the Apes (TV)
Genre: AU to my AU, F/M, Humor, Romance, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-25 01:24:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17715404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Athaia/pseuds/Athaia
Summary: Virdon and Burke teach Galen how to celebrate Valentine's Day with Zana.





	Of Apples And Onions And Love

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this one-shot a year ago (as you can see from the German formatting - the 'wrong' quotation marks that were driving some people bonkers), but the series took a different turn than I had planned, so this is basically an AU once removed LOL. The events in The Cage did happen, but apparently The Race and The River didn't (or at least The Race happened differently - the initial plans didn't involve Zana as much as the final version did). On the upside, Galen isn't as estranged to the humans as he was in my main series. Hope you enjoy the side-trip anyway.

** I **

When Galen came home from work, Zana was nowhere to be seen.

In fact, neither Zana nor Alan were to be seen, although the delicious scents from the kitchen indicated that the human had at least cooked dinner for them all. Maybe he was chopping wood, or had gone to the well for washing up... Alan was keen on keeping himself occupied around the house. Galen suspected that it prevented him from brooding too much.

Zana, on the other hand... with a resigned sigh, Galen put his robe on the hanger, and went to check their bedroom. 

She was lying in bed, as always. Galen wondered if she had gotten up at all today. „I’m home,“ he addressed her back. „Dinner is ready. You should really come,“ he added, when the silent heap under the blankets didn’t move. „Alan has made something delicious, judging by the smell. He’s really outdoing himself.“

He wasn’t sure if the human was still attempting to repent for his mistake that had cost Zana her happiness, and Alan had become very closed-lipped since that desaster in Araka. The tension in the house had abated considerably after Zana had forgiven him, but she hadn’t come out of her shell again since then. Maybe Alan wasn’t sure himself if she had really meant it, or if she had just been caught up in the emotion of that moment.

He met Alan in the main room, setting the table. The human looked tired... no, just withdrawn. 

_ These two are exactly the wrong company for each other,  _ Galen thought as he sat down at the table. But he couldn’t stay at home himself, and he couldn’t spare Peet, either: someone had to earn the money for the food that Alan turned into delicious meals. Galen buried his spoon in the stew.

„My mom taught me that you only start eating after everyone’s sat down,“ Peet’s voice sounded from the door. They had both found work at the post office in town; Galen helped old Chimpanzee grandmothers to select the correct stamps for the letters to their grandchildren, while the human made sure the post horses were fit to transport them. 

„You’re lucky that I even let you sit at the same table with me,“ Galen remarked without looking up. „Especially since you reek of horse manure.“

„I washed up,“ Peet protested, and heaped a generous portion of stew on his plate. „Where’s Zana?“

„In her room,“ Alan muttered and sat down heavily. 

For a while, nobody spoke; the only sounds were the clattering of their spoons on the plates. Peet finished first, and proceeded to secure a second helping. Alan watched him for a moment, then put the rest of the food on the fourth plate. „I’ll take this to Zana...“

„No.“ Galen shook his head. „We can’t keep serving her food in the bedroom - she’ll never leave that bed again!“

„She won’t come out,“ Alan objected. „She just won’t eat anything at all, and she’ll keep it up for days, until one of us gives in before she faints on us. You won’t get ahead with being strict.“

„We aren’t making any progress by indulging her in this... this  _ burrowing,  _ either!“ Galen huffed, frustrated. „This has been going on for too long now! She can’t sleep away the rest of her life!“

„Grief is... tenacious,“ Alan murmured, his gaze fixed on his plate. „It can stay with you for the rest of your life.“

„Yeah, but Galen’s right - she can’t be in that funk forever,“ Peet said, his speech slightly blurred from the food in his mouth. He swallowed, and continued, „I mean, we’ve all been through some serious shit, well, except for Galen...“ He flicked a quick glance toward him, gauging his reaction, but Galen just shrugged. It was true - he had been spared torture, gunshot wounds, and losing his reproductive organs... or being forced to use them... 

... but the child Zana had lost had also been his child. He was grieving, too, he just didn’t have the luxury of wallowing in it.

“... cheer her up somehow. Shake her out of this sick routine.“

He hadn’t paid attention; Peet had already run miles ahead in the conversation. „I doubt that a night at the theater will suffice to heal Zana from the grief over losing her child,“ Galen muttered.

„No,“ Peet agreed. He had finished his meal and was balancing his chair on its back legs. „It’s gotta be something special. Something personal from you. To show how much you care.“

„Zana  _ knows  _ how much I care about her,“ Galen said, irritated.

Peet flapped his hand. „Yeah, but she’s a  _ girl. _ Girls need proof from time to time. Once a week, at least. And sometimes you gotta get out the big guns, y’know?“

„The big guns,“ Galen repeated. 

„Yeah, like, flowers, and chocolate, and...  _ Valentines!“  _ Peet let the chair fall on all fours again, and slapped his forehead. „Why didn’t I think... you just gotta celebrate Valentine’s Day with her! The full A to Z! Right, Al?“

„I don’t think they know Valentine’s Day,“ Alan murmured, and began to put the plates together. 

Peet grabbed his arm. „Forget about your butler routine for a sec, Al - we gotta talk this through, Galen needs a battle plan! You had Christmas, but this,“ he smirked, „is my kind of love.“

„You seem to be very certain that this will work,“ Galen said doubtfully. Peet ignored him; his hand was still on Alan’s arm. The older human’s face was shuttered - Galen wasn’t sure if it was because Alan had painful memories of  _ this  _ „kind of love,“ or if he was reminded of the family that was lost to him. Maybe Peet should give it a rest-

„Don’t tell me you never bought chocolate for Sally,“ Peet insisted, blissfully ignoring his friend’s unease.

Alan sighed and sat down again; they’d be having that conversation, Galen realized, whether they wanted to or not. 

„Actually no, I didn’t,“ Alan said. „She hated chocolate. I... I cooked for her.“

„Ooh, yeah, a romantic dinner, that’s a classic!“ Peet nodded appreciatively. „Should’ve figured that one out, you’re a damn fine cook.“

„So, this...  _ Valentine _ is the man giving presents to the woman?“ Galen asked, trying to make sense of the conversation. „Like a, a mating display?“

Peet made a face. „You make it sound like we’re some kind of birds. It’s supposed to be  _ romantic. _ And, well, leading to other things, too, if you’re doin’ it right.“

„So, a mating display,“ Galen said dryly. 

Peet threw up his hands in exasperation. „You wanna try this, or not? Your girl could use a bit of coddling, if you ask me.“

Galen leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. „Alan, make us some tea. I have the feeling this will take longer.

„And make it strong.“

** II **

„Alright,“ Alan said, „I thought of preparing a Filét Wellington with-“

„No, no, no!“ Galen interrupted him. „If I understood Peet right, I have to cook the food myself. As a, a gesture of devotion to Zana.“

Alan stared at him. „But you told me you can’t cook.“

They were in the kitchen, the human leaning casually against the kitchen counter, Galen hovering in the door and feeling like an intruder. At home, he had only sneaked into the kitchen to snatch cookies. His parents' humans hadn’t dared to do anything about it, but Alan exuded the casual confidence of a wolf in his lair. Galen carefully avoided touching anything.

„I, I can’t,“ Galen admitted. „But it can’t be too difficult, can it? You just show me how it’s done, and I’ll, I’ll do it by myself for the, the occasion.“ His nose twitched violently; he just couldn’t help it.

Alan rubbed his hand over his mouth, half concealing his face. Galen couldn’t tell if the human was merely thoughtful, or trying to hide his incredulousness. Galen couldn’t really fault him if it was the latter.

But when Alan let his hand drop, there was no trace of a smirk on his face. „Well, in that case, I’d go with something more... something simple. Simple, but elegant,“ he added quickly. „How about... uhm... pork chops?“ His gaze became unfocused, as if he was tasting the meat in his imagination. „Pork chops with sautéed apples, and onions... caramelized onions... and we could season the meat with coriander - do you have... ah, I don’t know the name of that spice in your language! We need to go to the market, and I’ll see if the merchants have it... and maybe cumin, too...“

The human had become more animated than Galen had seen him since that debacle in Araka. Galen didn’t really understand how this meal was different from all the other meals Alan was preparing for them every day, but he was secretly glad that his friend was in a better mood all of a sudden. 

„Well, let’s go then and have a look,“ he said, determined to harness Alan’s bout of enthusiasm as long as it lasted. 

The human hesitated for a moment, and Galen remembered with a pang of guilt that Alan hadn’t been very keen on leaving the house since they had moved in. Crowds made him twitchy and tense, something that should have alerted Peet, but their other human was working during the day, and there was no need for leaving the house in the evening; in fact, humans weren’t allowed on the street after dark. 

It went better than he had feared, though - they found a spice stall at the edge of the market, and as soon as Alan managed to focus on the display, his enthusiasm returned, if a bit muted, and he was able to relax somewhat. He even agreed to accompany Galen to the butcher to help him select the meat. 

„How did you get all the ingredients for our meals until now?“ Galen wondered when they finally made their way home. They had bought almost every spice the merchant had to offer.

„I just tell Pete what to bring home.“ Alan ducked his head. „He... he even offered it to me, because of my leg.“

And if Alan had played up the impairment a bit, Peet would’ve either been oblivious, or more than willing to play along, Galen thought by himself. Ever since Alan had been shot, Peet was behaving like a cross between an ape mother and a bodyguard towards his friend.

They went straight to the kitchen, although Galen secretly longed for a tea. The next hours went by in a blur of peeling, slicing, and seasoning things, heating things and putting stuff on things and naming things and procedures, but in the end, all that Galen could remember were the stories Alan told about his lost wife - memories that awakened in the human with every new spice, every work step, every new scent filling the kitchen. 

„We agreed that I would cook, and she’d buy the wine,“ Alan said, staring out of the window, while the meat was gently cooking in the oven. „So I stood in the kitchen, waiting for her to come home from work - everything was ready, table was laid, candles in the candle holders...“ He grinned wryly. „The food was cooked on point and would only get worse from now on, and she wouldn’t turn up. We had a mean storm outside, and I was wondering if I shouldn’t just drive over and pry her loose from whatever she was  _ still  _ busy with.“ He sighed and absently pulled the pan with the onions from the heat. They were golden and glassy and smelled absolutely divine. 

„She turned up ten minutes to midnight, totally dissheveled, rain-soaked, and guilty as hell.“ He laughed softly. „By then the fish was dry, and the side dishes cold, but she was so proud that she had thought of the drinks.“

„What... what wine did she choose?“ Galen asked, when the silence stretched too long.

Alan inhaled sharply, coming back from his memory. „None. She had bought six bottles of beer.“ He grinned at Galen, but his eyes were conspicuously bright. „We... we ate chips that night, and drank all the beer. It was the best Valentine dinner ever.“ 

He rubbed his hand over his face, but the look he shot Galen had an ironic glint. „You may want to keep that in mind - it’s not the outer trappings that count.“

Galen surveyed the perfect display on the kitchen counter - the softly glowing onions, the glazed apples, the rosy meat that was sending tendrils of aromatic steam into the apricot light of late afternoon - and sighed. „Wise words, Alan,“ he said. „I hope Zana will agree on them.“

Alan smiled. „Let’s talk about dessert.“

** III **

„You don’t have chocolate?“ 

Peet gaped at him as if Galen had just told him that apes hadn’t mastered fire yet. They were already halfway down to the market, when the subject of choke... shok... that human confectionary had come up. Peet had declared that he would teach their simian companion the art of selecting a Valentine gift, after Alan had covered the culinary side of the holiday. Curiously, the gift giving seemed to consist of even more food.

„And you claim to be civilized,“ the human growled. „Figures. You don’t have coffee, either. I swear, this is purgatory.“

„Why does it have to be... that?“ Galen asked. „Is it like a, a symbol for something?“

Peet shrugged. „’Cause all the girls love chocolate. Well, except for Al’s girl, apparently.“ They had reached the edge of the market, and were slowing their steps. Peet looked a bit lost, as if he didn’t know what to shop for, now that his favorite bribe was unavailable.

„There seems to be an awful lot of feeding involved in this holiday,“ Galen remarked. „It reminds me of the courtship feeding of shrikes.“

Peet began to prowl the stalls, scanning them for a suitable substitute, Galen assumed. He was content to trail after the human; this day seemed to be less demanding than Alan’s field trip the day before.

„Courtship thing of what?“ Peet asked absently. He stopped at a stall that sold candied fruits, but moved on without asking Galen to buy something from the selection.

„A bird,“ Galen said innocently. „It catches mice and insects, even other birds, and impales them on sharp twigs, as a kind of, of Valentine’s display for the female.“

„Again with the bird comparisons,“ Peet muttered. „Oh wow, look!“ 

They were approaching a stall with an impressive display of hunting knives, blades glinting in the morning light. „Careful, Peet.“ Galen put a calming hand on the human’s arm. Peet was tense with excitement. „You know humans mustn’t touch any weapons.“ 

The statement, while true, struck him as ironic; Peet was still hiding the gun in their home that he had taken from a guard, and was wearing his own knife hidden under his shirt at this very moment. 

„It wouldn’t be for myself.“ Peet’s gaze was fixed on the display. „I’m helping you to find a gift for Valentine’s, remember?“

„I don’t think Zana would be excited to get a knife from me,“ Galen murmured. It would stir exactly the wrong kind of memories...

Peet paid him no attention. „That one’s nice.“ He pointed at a sleek blade with a dark handle. Galen didn’t know the first thing about different kinds of woods; maybe it was its natural color, maybe it was varnished...

The vendor let out a warning growl when Peet made a move to touch the weapon, and with a sigh, and a nod to the ape, Galen took it from the rack and handed it to him. „It’s alright,“ he assured the shocked seller, „he’s been trained as a bodyguard.“ 

„Katlin would love this,“ Peet murmured as he lovingly turned the knife in his hands. He looked up at Galen, eyes alight with sudden inspiration. „I have money, too, Galen - that money I won in the race,“ he said. „I want you to buy that knife for me.“

For a moment, Galen didn’t know what to say. The chances that Peet would ever meet the human resistance leader again were close to nonexistent, a factor that probably fuelled his obsession with the female that he had only met once. He didn’t mention her often, but to Galen it seemed that she had taken on an almost supernatural quality in Peet’s imagination.

If he agreed to buy this knife now, he’d just add another weapon to Peet’s growing arsenal.

„Fine,“ Galen muttered. „But I’ll safeguard it until you meet her again.“

„Sure. I’ll just need it once to decorate the handle.“ Peet handed him the knife. 

„Now you have a Valentine gift, but I’m still empty-handed,“ Galen complained when they turned away from the stall.

Peet waved his arm in a wide gesture that encompassed the whole market. „The day is still young, buddy. We’ll find something for your girl, too.“

They sure did find things - a silvery pendant in the form of a leaping horse (not real silver, or it would’ve been unaffordable), a wool scarf in a mossy green with an interlaid pattern of brown nuts and leaves, a set of tools for repairing horse tack - an awl, a string of waxed linen thread, needles, rivets, a hollow punch, and a tool Galen didn’t know - all wrapped in soft leather and bound with a string; and an intricately carved wooden box. „Women always have stuff they don’t need but can’t throw away,“ Peet had commented on the last item. „That way, you’ll at least not step on it. That tiny crap can cripple you, I tell ya.“

It was long after noon when they finally returned home. Galen’s feet were aching. 

„We got something to show for our efforts,“ Peet tried to cheer him up.

„Oh yes, I’m sure Katlin will be overjoyed when you show off your booty,“ Galen muttered. 

Peet scratched his head. „You can have the box,“ he offered. 

Galen sniffed. „No, I told you, I don’t think Zana would have any use for it. She doesn’t own... junk.“

„Hey!“ Peet frowned at him. „Katlin doesn’t own junk, either! But hey, you could give her the box with the promise to fill it with earrings and stuff.“

„Zana doesn’t wear jewelry,“ Galen objected. He still felt grumpy. And thirsty. When they got home, the first thing he wanted was a cup of tea.

„Yeah, no wonder, if you don’t buy her anything,“ Peet muttered.

They returned home in silence.

** IV **

„I don’t understand.“ Zana stared at the flowers, then at Galen, then at the flowers again. „It’s still winter... it  _ is _ still winter, isn’t it?“

„It... it is still winter, yes,“ Galen said nervously. Zana was often absent-minded now, lost in her own thoughts, but he hadn’t thought that she’d have lost track of time so much that she wasn’t even certain of the season anymore... or didn’t think to look out of the window. Maybe she had suffered brain damage after all, from her fall in the human city? Should he have insisted that she continue drinking doctor Lemar’s tea, instead of giving in when she had told him it made her gag?

„But where did you find those flowers then? They are lovely, but... it’s not the right time for them to bloom.“

„Oh, that,“ Galen said, relieved. „Peet found a woman who grows the bulbs in her house, so the warmth makes them sprout and bloom early. She sells them, too, and I, and I thought it would be a nice surprise.“

„It is a surprise,“ Zana whispered and held the bouquet up to her face. „They smell so lovely. Like spring.“

„There is more,“ Galen promised, excitement mixing with his nervousness. „If you’d just come out of bed... I’m going to make this whole day special for you.“

Zana hesitated for long, long moments; Galen tucked his lip between his teeth to prevent himself from pushing her, from... from begging her, though he hoped that his stare would transport his pleading instead.

Finally, after inhaling the scent of the hyacinths a last time, Zana sighed, and swung her legs to the side of the bed. „Alright, Galen. I don’t want to be a spoilsport.“

He gathered the flowers from the bedspread. „I’ll put these into a container. I... I’ll wait in the main room.“ 

She appeared under the door a few moments later, and Galen guiltily stopped his pacing and hurried to lead her to the table. „This is for you.“ He gestured at the parcel lying there, at once inconspicuous and promising in its brown cotton cloth wrapping. Alan had murmured something about colored wrapping  _ paper,  _ but hadn’t elaborated. Galen shrugged internally. The content was the important element of a gift, not its concealment.

Zana was currently unveiling said content, and Galen found himself holding his breath as he stared at her face. Zana shook out the green-and-brown wooly scarf that Galen had required from Peet instead of the wooden box; it reminded him of the green-and-yellow silk scarf she had brought from the City when they had to flee with the humans. This was like a sturdier version - not as elegant, but providing shelter from bad weather. 

Quite a fitting symbolism, Galen thought.

„How do you like it?“ he asked, when Zana didn’t say anything; she just brushed her hand over the soft fabric once, before she put it back on the table.

„It’s very nice,“ Zana said politely. „Thank you, dear.“

„I have... I’ve one more thing prepared for you,“ Galen murmured, struggling to not let his disappointment show. „Sit down, please. It, it’ll take just a few moments, promise.“ He drew a chair out for her and stared at her until she took the hint and lowered herself onto it. Galen forced a smile on his face, corrected the placement of the hyacinths on the table, and lit the two candles to both sides of the flowers. 

„Just, just stay there,“ he urged Zana. „It won’t take long!“ He hurried into the kitchen without waiting for her answer.

And stopped in his tracks as soon as he had entered.

He had... just talked to Zana for a few moments, right? He hadn’t been out of the kitchen for very long-

... but the acrid smell stabbing at his nostrils told him that it had been too long. Galen jumped to the stove, where the black flasks of the formerly glazed onions were already beginning to smoke. He reached for the handle, cursed when he touched the heated metal-

The apples! 

This time, he thought of using an oven cloth before he lifted the lid. The apples were...

... salvageable. Just a tiny bit more mushy than they should’ve been, but Zana hadn’t seen Alan’s version, so she wouldn’t notice, hopefully. 

With a hiss, the oil in the pan with the onions ignited. Galen jumped back with a strangled cry. He had forgotten about the cursed things, and now the whole pan was on fire! He batted at it with the oven cloth, vaguely remembering that it wasn’t a good idea to pour water on burning oil, but instead of choking the fire, it reached for the cloth.

He hastily dropped the burning rag and stomped out the flames, but the pan! The flame was reaching for the ceiling, he’d burn the house down! He needed something to douse the f-

Galen ripped the lid from the pot with the apples, dropped the hot lid with a clang and a curse, and dumped the apple mush into the pan. 

The applesauce exploded with a crackle and the smell of caramel. Hot slobs of apple spatter seared Galen’s cheeks and decorated his robe, and the walls. 

... They would just have the meat and some, and some good wine. The wine bottle was still sitting on the window sill to keep it cooled-

Mothers, he should take it inside before the wine froze and broke the bottle! Galen hurried to the window, then hurried back to the oven to have a look at the meat. Better to take it out now, before it became too dry-

With a little huff, the soufflé imploded. 

Galen groaned.

He had put the cinnamon soufflé into the oven when the meat was halfway done, figuring that both would be ready to serve at the same time, and that the soufflé would have time to cool off a bit while they were eating the main course. He poked at the soufflé. It was... a bit dense now. But it would still taste of cinnamon. Maybe it would recuperate once he closed the oven door? He  _ had _ to take out the meat - it looked good, at least.

Galen retracted his arms inside his sleeves, using the hems as makshift oven gloves, and carefully rose with the steaming crockpot. He’d carry this over into the main room and just not mention that there had been side dishes in the planning-

When he turned away from the oven, he found himself face to face with Zana.

„What in the  _ world  _ are you doing in here?“ Zana’s gaze wandered over the walls of the kitchen, the mess on the oven top, the... the ceiling, and finally rested on the collar of his robe. He probably had applesauce there, too.

The heat of the crockpot was searing his fingers through the fabric of his sleeves. Galen brushed past his fiancée without a word and dropped the pot onto the table. 

„I, ah, I was preparing a, a romantic dinner for you,“ he said, blowing on his fingers. He didn’t dare to look at her. „For, for the two of us.“

„But you can’t cook,“ Zana’s voice sounded from the kitchen. Galen winced. He wished she would stop her inspection of the debacle in there.

But the wine was still on the window sill. With a sigh, Galen returned to the place of his defeat. „Alan assured me that it’s the intention that matters,“ he murmured and opened the window to reach for the bottle. It wasn’t frozen, thankfully.

„So this was Alan’s idea?“ Zana’s voice had a strange undertone - Galen wasn’t sure if it was amusement or annoyance. 

„Actually, all of us were racking our brains how to cheer you up,“ he said, and held up the bottle. „I admit my skills are nowhere near Alan’s, but this wine is very good, and, and I think the meat is well done, but not dry, and we’d even have the apples, if I hadn’t been forced to take emergency measures with the onions...“

He broke off at Zana's sudden laugh.

He hadn’t heard her laugh since before they had reached Trion. That summer seemed to be so long ago, another life... 

Maybe not a memory at all. A dream, a dream of golden sunlight shimmering through green leaves, and the sound of rolling wheels, and Zana’s laughter. 

„I can set the kitchen on fire every day, if that’s what’s cheering you up,“ he said softly. 

Zana slapped a hand over her mouth, but she was still giggling. „No, no, you can’t do that,“ she said. „Poor Alan.“ They both surveyed the mess. Applesauce was clinging everywhere, and the smell of burnt onions was tickling their noses.

„We still have the wine, and the meat,“ Galen suggested after a moment of silence. “... before it gets cold?“

Zana sighed. „We  _ must _ clean up this mess before Alan comes home,“ she said firmly. „He’ll have a stroke if he sees this.“

Galen gallantly took her arm and steered her back to the main room. „I’ll clean up everything, don’t worry. Let’s eat first.“

„I’ll help you,“ Zana said, with a hint of her old self creeping back into her voice. „After all, you made this mess because of me.“

„You don’t have to!“ Galen uncorked the bottle and poured her a glass. His hand was shaking only slightly. „This is your special day.“

Zana took her glass, and regarded him with good-natured exasperation. „Galen, dear, every day with you is special - in one way or the other.“ She raised her glass, and her smile softened. „Thank you for this one in particular.“

Galen ignored the glass and leaned down to kiss her. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the story - if so, please leave a kudos, so that I know I did well :-)


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